Praise You Like I Should - Meandering

I don't say much about j^C on here, and I don't say enough nice things about him in general. So right now I would like to soapbox about one the the wonderful things about my husband: He lets me meander.

What the hell does that mean? you ask. To answer that I must first explain something about myself: I am a meanderer. Merriam-Webster defines the word thusly:

Meander: intransitive verb
1) to follow a winding or intricate course
2) to wander aimlessly or casually without urgent destination; ramble

This is me. I like to meander. I am a meanderer. Some people merely tolerate my meandering. Others indulge it. Then there are those who don't understand the concept of meandering. I don't care for spending time with these people. They rush me and herd me and which sends me into a spiral of anxiety and stress leaving me a frazzled mess for an indeterminable lenghth of time. "Why are we leaving? We just got here!" I think to myself. There are boxes of records in thrift stores that need to be examined at one by one, just in case there's a copy of Captain Fantastic and The Dirt Brown Cowboy or a first pressing of Some Girls. Why don't you all just let me look? What could be more important? The history's not going anywhere, the records might. This also applies to books, CDs, movies, and the little placards at the historical site because I am a woefully slow reader.

Banned. Just cuz the queened up Judy Garland. Source

Most often this happens on vacations. I can handle being annoying. I cannot handle being stressed out. I don't like  taking Xanax at this point. (I don't like taking any drugs at all, but that's another story for another time.) I am to the point now where I might start getting "lost" so I can spend my sweet time exploring what I think is the most interesting. I found some time ago that I would rather visit very small towns on vacation instead of the big tourist destinations for this very reason. In a small town, there's a finite amount of things to see and do, so taking my time and immersing myself will not be done at the expense of another attraction or activity. In a bigger place, you just cannot do that. If you want to get the most out of your visit, you rush around like a madman from place to place and thing to thing. Still, you never really see all of it. Not seeing it all stresses me out. I would rather explore a few things thoroughly than a lot of things superficially. It's supposed to be about pleasure and making memories, right? How am I supposed to remember so many things crammed into one day? My brain not work so good.

j^C, being the nice guy that he is, indulges me. We can spend an hour or two at the thrift store while on vacation. He will let me wander around the museum aimlessly reading all the things there are to read, looking at the art and exhibits until my little black heart is content. When I travel with him, I don't feel hurried, stressed, or otherwise put upon. It's really nice, and I am truly grateful for his patience with this matter as I know I will never have his understanding about it. This quirk of mine aggravates him just as much as it does everyone else, but since he knows that my meandering is important to me, he doesn't grouse. In return, I try to be mindful of time and I make sure we don't spend all day rummaging through boxes of moldy vinyl. While part of me wants to know what is in every single box, there are other things to explore, and maybe like the history, the records aren't going anywhere either.